Washington’s Domestic Partnership Law One Year Later

As I removed each ornament from the box I’ve been keeping them in since I was a kid, I remembered. A tiny book on a gold string with an inscription from my fourth grade teacher, a black and white dog at a typewriter to recognize my childhood dream from my mom, a hand sewn drummer boy mouse named “Joey” from a long lost relative — they were all carefully placed on the Christmas tree.

Joined with mine, were ornaments whose memories belonged to someone else. A Reindeer made out of clothes pins, a duck sitting on a drum, a glittery letter “J”, all followed my partner through time.

At the bottom of the box were several hand written notes. I’ve been writing them to myself since I was a kid. The earliest note was a reminder to be good to my family, “Never forget Mom loves us very much.” I wrote as if there were two of me — one from the past, and one from the future.

As I got older the notes alluded to a secret only the two of us knew about. “Are we happy? I hope so,” I wrote when I was 13. It was a secret Christmas wish that only the two of us could understand. Puberty brought a new realization when I was 12. I was far different than anyone else I knew. It was terrifying.

Years later the notes became more optimistic, “I hope we are not alone. Are we?”

When I was a kid I would imagine my future self discovering a way to communicate back in time. Maybe even I would come back to talk to myself. “No we are not alone” someone would say quickly while passing by.

As I decorated the tree Sunday night, I thought of our ornaments together on the tree, and the scared young men we both were. I imagined my partner’s child self and mine, both hoping not to be alone, and wished I could go back to them both to tell them it was going to be OK. I wish I could send them a small folded note to tell them that we would both find and love each other.

“I just realized it has been a year since we got our Domestic Partnership,” I told my partner as I hung a cow made out of cowbells my parents gave him last year.

“Should we celebrate?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” For the last year we’ve both carried state issued Domestic Partnership cards in our wallets. I used mine several times to prove our relationship to strangers. “Just look it up. We’re supposed to be equal. The law is Chapter 26.60, Revised Code of Washington. It clearly says you can’t treat us different,” I told my insurance company.

“We’ll have to check with our lawyers and call you back,” they said.

Or another time with an HR department, “No the Federal Government does not recognize Domestic Partnerships, but our state does,” I said, “It is supposed to be like a marriage, but it is not.”

“Well I guess I learn something new every day,” She said. “I’ll have to Tax your benefits as if you were not a couple.”

My cat chased the silver garland as I finished the tree. I took out a piece of paper and wrote a note, “Hey. I hope we had a great year. Did we get everything we hoped for? Are we equal yet?”

Who knows? Maybe my future self will figure out a way to send me a reply. “Yes we are. It was worth the fight. Equality is the most amazing feeling in the world. I can’t wait for you to experience it.”